


let me give you my life

by denimangels



Category: Dynasty (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, They end up together I promise, kirby is lesbian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-19 07:14:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29871078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/denimangels/pseuds/denimangels
Summary: Things come apart so easily when they have been held together with lies. And right now, her happily-ever-after is falling apart before her eyes.
Relationships: Kirby Anders/Fallon Carrington
Kudos: 10





	let me give you my life

**Author's Note:**

> Things come apart so easily when they have been held together with lies. - Dorothy Allison
> 
> hey jude - beatles
> 
> title from take me to church by hozier

“I have a girlfriend,” Kirby says at brunch one morning. 

Fallon stiffens next to her. She averts her gaze, but not fast enough for Kirby to miss the hurt that flashes through her eyes, and Kirby hides her wince behind her coffee mug.

It’s unfair — unfair that Fallon can still make her feel guilty even though _Fallon_ is the one who made Kirby cry in her room after she’d learned about Culhane’s proposal a year ago, _Fallon_ is the one who now has the fairytale, happily-ever-after with Liam.

This is her chance at a happy ending, even if it isn’t with Fallon.

“Congratulations,” Fallon says at last, her voice flat. Kirby wants to cringe. “That’s… uh… that’s great.”

Aaliyah picks her up after brunch, barely sparing Fallon a second glance as she tugs Kirby out of the restaurant. She can feel Fallon’s glare burning through her as Aaliyah crowds her against the car and kisses her in the parking lot.

~

Aaliyah is perfect. Gorgeous, with a sense of humor and eyes that sparkle in the sun. Kirby should be happy.

And she is.

~

(She is.)

~

“Did you buy more wine?” Kirby is sprawled across the couch in Aaliyah’s apartment. _Their_ apartment, Kirby amends, but the bed is too hard and the water pressure in the shower isn’t nearly as good as it is at Carrington manor.

“Yeah.” Aaliyah appears in the doorway, grinning as she holds up the opened bottle and two glasses. 

Kirby flicks through their shared Netflix account. Aaliyah has finished the season of America’s Next Top Model without her, but it’s fine, really. They both knew that Elise wasn’t going to win anyway. Kirby starts the first episode of the next season as Aaliyah slides into the couch next to Kirby, tucking herself into her side. Aaliyah pours them each a generous glass of wine, handing one off to Kirby.

Kirby swirls the wine in the glass, watching the liquid climb up to the edge before sloshing back into her cup. She takes a sip, her mouth twisting into a grimace.

It’s white wine.

It’s always white wine because Aaliyah likes white wine. It’s always white wine, even though Aaliyah knows Kirby likes red.

But it’s fine.

(It’s not fine.)

_(It is.)_

~

When the phone rings, Aaliyah is straddling her thigh, and Kirby’s lips are on her neck.

“Ignore it,” Aaliyah murmurs into her ear, pressing a kiss to the soft spot behind her jaw.

But then, her phone lights up again, and it’s Fallon’s name that’s flashing on the screen, and Kirby practically shoves Aaliyah off her lap in her haste to answer the call.

“Fallon?” Kirby can feel Aaliyah’s glare burning into her back, but it’s Fallon (it’s always Fallon), and it’s late at night, and _something must be wrong_. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m… I shouldn’t have called,” Fallon says, but Kirby can hear the shake in her voice, and Kirby’s already reaching for her car keys.

“I’m coming over, okay?” 

“Okay.” Fallon’s voice is so soft that Kirby almost misses it. “Thank you.”

“I have to go.” Kirby slips on a coat, glancing back apologetically at Aaliyah. “Fallon needs me.”

“Of course it’s Fallon.” Aaliyah narrows her eyes, her lips curled up in disgust. “Is there something going on between you two?”

“No.” Because Fallon has Liam, and Kirby has Aaliyah, and even if they were both available, Fallon would never choose her. “I really, really like you, okay?”

Aaliyah just nods, looking unconvinced. “I love you.”

Kirby just smiles.

(Kirby hasn’t managed to reciprocate the three words yet. It’s always a smile or a kiss or a mouthed “colorful”, even though Aaliyah knows that she’s saying “colorful”, not “I love you”.

Kirby’s not afraid of love.

But she’s always been afraid of falling.)

~

Kirby wakes up the next morning with Fallon in her arms, in Fallon’s bed, and, for a moment, everything just feels _right_. Fallon is still asleep, and Kirby can’t help but notice how well they fit together, like pieces of a puzzle. It’s the softest that Kirby has seen Fallon (and maybe the most beautiful, too). Fallon’s curled up against Kirby, her lashes dark crescents against her cheeks and hair splayed out against the white sheets.

But her cheeks are stained with mascara, and her eyeliner is smudged, and Kirby feels guilt crawl up in her chest because after Fallon had told her that Liam had broken up with her over text last night, Kirby’s first thought had been _‘about damn time’_ and _‘let me kiss the tears off your cheeks’_.

Aaliyah. She’s with Aaliyah.

Aaliyah, who’s perfect and gorgeous (and always buys white wine).

Fallon stirs in her arms, blinking up sleepily at her. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Kirby says softly, shoving all thoughts of Aaliyah out of her mind. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah.” Fallon shifts, stretching out on the bed. “I did, actually. Thanks for coming, by the way.”

“Of course.” Fallon’s smiling up at her, and Kirby just smiles back, fighting the urge to brush a stray lock of Fallon’s hair behind her ear. It’s quiet for a moment, both of them content in the comfortable silence until Fallon practically rips herself out of Kirby’s arms in her haste to get away.

“Sorry, sorry.” Fallon’s eyes are wide, panicked as she backs herself into the corner of the room. “You have a girlfriend. I shouldn’t have let you sleep over. _Shit_.”

“It’s okay,” Kirby says slowly, holding out her hands as if talking to a scared animal. “It’s okay. Aaliyah knows I’m here. And nothing happened. You just needed company, so I came. That’s what friends are for, right?” 

“Right, uh,” Fallon smiles weakly, “I think it’s best if you go now.”

“Yeah.” Kirby clears her throat, fidgeting with her t-shirt. It’s stained with mascara and tear trails. “I’m going to go. I’ll see you soon?”

Fallon nods. “Bye, Kirby.”

Her words are filled with emotions that Kirby cannot even begin to dissect.

~

“Where were you?” Aaliyah demands the moment Kirby steps back into the apartment.

“Good morning to you, too.” Kirby kicks off her shoes and pads toward the kitchen, balancing the bags of groceries in her arms.

“Were you with Fallon?” Aaliyah’s trailing uncomfortably close behind her, and Kirby abruptly whirls around, grinding them both to a halt in the middle of the hallway.

“No. I went grocery shopping,” Kirby says slowly, holding up her shopping bags. It’s been a week since the Fallon incident, and Kirby hasn't seen her since. “Why do you care if I was with Fallon anyways?”

“Because you’re always with her?” Aaliyah crosses her arms defensively over her chest. “It’s like you’re at her beck and call 24/7. You seem to be with her more than you are with me.”

Kirby raises an eyebrow. “I see you every day. I live with you. Besides, I haven’t seen her in a week.”

“Oh, yeah,” Aaliyah laughs, but it’s filled with cold disbelief. “Not since you spent the night with her last week.”

“She’s my friend! She needed my help that night, so I went and helped!” It’s Kirby’s turn to scoff. “I can’t believe you.”

Aaliyah’s eyes flash. “ _I_ am being unbelievable? You’re the one who’s in love with your best friend!”

Kirby freezes.

She doesn’t love Fallon.

Fallon, who’s beautiful and sassy and watches crappy celebrity shows with Kirby on Friday nights. Fallon, who stubbornly demands that they buy a bottle of white and red wine when they’re out at dinner because she knows that Kirby likes red. Fallon, who fits so, so perfectly in her arms.

_Holy shit._

“I -” _I love_ you, _Aaliyah_ , but the words get stuck in her throat. Things come apart so easily when they have been held together with lies. And right now, her happily-ever-after is falling apart before her eyes. “I need to get some air.”

She can feel Aaliyah’s gaze burning into her back as she makes her escape.

~

Kirby’s drunk and alone at a bar in downtown Atlanta.

It’s sad, really.

She’d come with Sam, who had watched her with pity in his eyes as she drank herself into oblivion. And now even he’s gone, off with some hot guy he’d picked up at the bar. With the car.

Kirby doesn’t know what possesses her at the moment — she blames it on the alcohol — but almost instinctively, she dials Fallon’s phone number.

It only rings once before Fallon picks up.

“Kirby?” It’s quiet on Fallon’s end, and Kirby momentarily feels guilty that she might’ve woken her up. “It’s 1 in the morning.”

“Sorry.” Kirby winces. She hadn’t even realized that it was this late when she made the call. “Were you sleeping?”

“No,” Fallon says. “Working. What’s wrong?”

“I, uh,” Kirby scratches the back of her neck, “Sam left me at a bar, and I don’t really have a ride home.”

“Where’s your girlfriend?” There’s an edge to Fallon’s voice, and Kirby winces.

“Out of town.” It’s a lie, and Fallon’s pause tells her that she knows Kirby’s lying.

“Are you alone?” Fallon asks after a moment. Kirby can hear the rustling of sheets as Fallon climbs out of bed. “Okay, okay. I’m coming. Send me the address.”

Kirby fumbles with the phone, turning Fallon onto speakerphone as she types in the address. It takes her a few tries to correctly spell the name of the bar.

“I’m going to kill Sam,” Fallon says after Kirby sends the address, and “What are you doing in this part of Atlanta? Is he aware that he’s rich now?”

Kirby snorts inelegantly.

“Okay, Google Maps says I’ll be there in ten minutes.” There’s the telltale sound of a car starting. “I’m hanging up.”

Fallon must have been speeding because she gets there in six. She struts into the bar like she owns the place and makes a direct beeline for Kirby. Fallon looks… soft, is the best word that Kirby can come up with. Like she’s shed all of her sharp edges with the night, and what’s left is just purely Fallon.

“Seriously?” Though her voice is still as sharp as the spikes on her purple Louboutins. “Out of all the bars in Atlanta, you chose to come here. Come on, I’m taking you home.”

“No,” Kirby says quickly, too quickly, and she amends, “Can you take me to the manor?”

Thankfully, Fallon doesn’t ask any questions, just raises an eyebrow before turning and striding out the door. Kirby scrambles gratefully into the warmth of Fallon’s Porsche, grinning despite herself when she immediately hears Paul McCartney’s voice through the speakers.

“The Beatles?” Kirby teases, though her words are slurring together. “You’re like a fifty-year-old dad.”

“You’re the one who asked me to come pick you up at 1 in the morning when it’s below freezing outside,” Fallon says, shooting her a glare. “I’m sure you can settle your inner nine-year-old to appreciate good music for a few minutes.”

Kirby opens her mouth to say something, but then, Fallon starts singing, and Kirby’s mind completely blanks.

_“Hey Jude, don’t make it bad. Take a sad song, and make it better.”_

Kirby had always known that Fallon could sing, but this is the first time that she has heard Fallon sing since they were twelve. Her voice is deeper now, and holds a richer quality that reminds Kirby of melted chocolate and caramel. Her mouth goes dry.

 _“Remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better.”_ Fallon taps the beat out with her finger on the steering wheel.

 _“Hey Jude, don’t be afraid. You were made to go out and get her.”_ Kirby blinks when the words slip out of her mouth. She hadn’t even meant to join in. Her voice is not nearly as nice as Fallon’s — while Fallon’s voice flows smoothly, Kirby’s shakes and breaks and slurs in all the wrong places, but she continues nevertheless. _“The minute you let her under your skin, then you begin to make it better.”_

 _“And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain, don't carry the world upon your shoulders.”_ Fallon joins in, and suddenly, the nostalgia from karaoke in Fallon’s room before she was banished to Australia washes over her like a wave, and she furiously blinks back the sudden mistiness that fills her eyes. _“For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool by making his world a little colder.”_

Someone honks from behind them, and Kirby jolts back into reality, right as Fallon bursts into the _“na na naa” _s, and she looks so euphoric, illuminated only by the passing of streetlights, and Kirby just leans back and watches for a moment.__

Kirby blames it on the alcohol when she just wants to lean in and kiss her. 

~

Aaliyah breaks up with her over text. 

It’s just one word: _bye._

Kirby doesn’t reply. 

~ 

She doesn’t cry, either, barely blinks when she picks up her stuff from Aaliyah’s apartment. She just can’t bring herself to care. 

Kirby moves back into the manor the next day, binges the episodes of America’s Next Top Model that Aaliyah had watched without her while she tans by the pool. 

Halfway through one of Tyra Banks’ monologues, everything clicks into place. Relief. She’s relieved that they, whatever they were, are over. Part of her always knew that they were never going to work out. Not when the mere thought of Fallon is enough to make her heart throb. 

_“You’re the one who’s in love with your best friend!”_

Kirby shoves the thought very, very far away. 

~ 

“You’re back,” Fallon says to her that night, her brows furrowed in confusion as she pads into the kitchen. It’s late, and everyone’s gone to bed already, but Kirby can’t sleep. Instead, she’s perched on the kitchen island, nursing a warm cup of tea. 

“Yeah.” Kirby sighs quietly. “Aaliyah broke up with me.” 

Fallon stares for a moment. Then, she sighs, reaching for a bottle of wine. “If it helps, she was kind of a bitch anyway.” 

“Yeah.” Kirby tries to smile, but it’s probably more of a grimace. “That’s what she used to say about you, too.” 

Fallon rolls her eyes as she slides a glass of wine across the counter to her. “Red, right? I remember you liking red.” 

Kirby stares into the glass, and there must be something in her eyes because Fallon tsks softly. 

“You deserve better.” Fallon reaches for Kirby’s hand, and Kirby just wants to cry because this is _Fallon_ — perfect, untouchable Fallon — and Kirby is just Kirby, but Fallon’s looking at her like she’s the only one in the world. “You deserve so much better.” 

And for the first time since Aaliyah broke up with her, Kirby lets herself cry. Big, ugly sobs that rip out from deep inside her, and guilt crawls up her spine because she’s not crying about Aaliyah — she’s crying about Fallon. Kirby's crying because Fallon’s looking at her like she deserves the world when all she wants is _her_ , and it shouldn’t hurt as much as it does when Fallon envelopes her in a hug. 

“It’s okay,” Fallon whispers as Kirby leans against her. “It’s going to be okay.” 

And it will be. 

But for now, Kirby seeks comfort in Fallon’s embrace, trying to ignore how perfectly they fit together. 

~ 

For the second time in a month, Kirby wakes up with Fallon in her arms, in Fallon’s bed. Fallon’s wrapped around her like a blanket, her face tucked into the crook of Kirby’s neck, and Kirby finds herself gently brushing through her curls with her fingers. 

“Good morning,” Kirby says softly, gently tapping Fallon’s shoulder. Breakup or not, it’s still a workday. “You’re going to be late for work.” 

Fallon whines, nuzzling closer to Kirby, and Kirby chuckles softly. “Come on, sleepyhead.” 

When Fallon doesn’t move, she resorts to the one thing that is guaranteed to wake her up - she tickles Fallon beneath her armpits, and she shrieks, jerking away from Kirby. 

“That was mean,” Fallon says, pouting, but she’s looking at Kirby with a spark of mischief in her eyes. 

Kirby really should be expecting it when Fallon pokes her in the ribs. Instead, she squeals, and they roll and writhe on the bed until Kirby’s able to pin Fallon’s hands beside her head. They’re both panting, Fallon staring up at her with wide blue eyes, and Kirby really should move, but she can’t bring herself to roll off. 

She’s still in the midst of convincing herself that this is a bad idea when Fallon leans up and kisses her. 

It’s nothing like what she’d imagined their first kiss was going to be like. There’s no fireworks, no sparks, but kissing Fallon feels _right_ in any and every way possible, and it’s more than anything that Kirby would’ve bargained for. 

“This is a bad idea,” Kirby gasps out between kisses, but even she’s having a hard time convincing herself. 

“Shh…” Fallon smirks up at her, reaching up to tangle her fingers in her hair and tug her back down. 

They don’t speak very much after that. 


End file.
